FOR US THE LIVING BY ROBERT A. HEINLEIN

Diana got up from where she had been sitting and faced him. “Perry, how do you know that stuff won’t go off all at once?”

He smiled tenderly. “Don’t worry, honey. It hasn’t yet on any tests, and it can’t, or else I’m no mathematician.”

Olga spoke again. “Perry, you are determined to go?”

“What do you think?”

She shook her head. “Oh, you’re going all right. Oh Lord, was it for this that we re-made the world? Made it safe to rear babies? Brought sanity into the world?” She walked to the far end of the room and stood with her back to them. Perry followed her, took her by the shoulders and turned her around.

“Olga, look at me. This is what men have striven for. Economic systems are nothing, codes of customs are nothing, unless they are the means whereby man can follow his urge to fulfill himself, to search for the meaning of things, to create beauty, to seek out love. Listen to me. If there were a deadly new plague you’d go where it was, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, but that is to save people’s lives.”

“Don’t tell me that. That is your secondary reason, your justification. You’d go in the first place to study something, to find out what made it tick.”

“But your trip is so useless.”

“Useless? Perhaps. But Pasteur didn’t know what use there was in it when he studied one-celled life. Newton thought his calculus was a mathematical toy. I don’t care whether it’s useful or not, but you’ve no way of knowing that it won’t be. All I know is that there is another face to the moon that we never see, and I’m going out there and seeing. After me someday will come a man in a better ship, who will land and walk on the moon, and come back to tell about it. Then in the next few years and centuries the human race will spread through the planets like bees swarming in the spring time—finding new homes, new ways to live, new and more beautiful things to do. I won’t live to see it, but, by God, I can live long enough to show them the way.

“But I won’t be killed this trip. At least I don’t feel it in my bones. This time tomorrow I’ll be back, and we’ll all sit down to supper again.” He consulted the chronometer. “Come on. It’s time to go.”

The reception hall of the Moon Rocket Station was crowded with people. Perry was met at the stair by the Director who kept back a crowd of excited visitors. A husky youth in greasy coveralls pushed through the mob. Perry caught his eye.

“All set, Joe?”

“All set, Master Perry.” Perry clapped him on the shoulder.

“Cut out the master stuff, kid. It’s soon enough when I get back. Besides you go on the next trip.”

Joe smiled. “I’ll hold you to that, Perry.”

“Right. Now, look. You’re all through, aren’t you? Will you look after the girls here, and see that they get good spots to watch? Thanks.” He turned back to Diana and Olga. “I’m going now. It’s less than ten minutes to zero. I don’t want you out on the field. Give a fellow a kiss and go.” He looked around and called out, “Private sphere!” The televue scanners stopped clicking. Then he kissed each of them and they clung to him. He patted them clumsily, arm about each, then gently pulled away. The scanners picked up again. Joe led them to the observatory stairs and Perry stepped through the field lock.

Joe found them places in the observatory tower. They saw Perry in the white flood lights, moving toward his ship with a parade ground swing. The ship itself was silver in the moonlight, huge, uncouth. It rested on a cradle in which it leaned away from vertical and pointed a trifle west of meridian. Perry was climbing a ladder which scaled the framework of the cradle. He reached the manhole in the side of his rocket and slid his legs inside. Then, half seated, he looked back at the buildings and waved his right arm. Diana fancied that she could catch the glint of his smile. Then he slid inside and was gone. The port cover swung into place from inside the rocket, rotated clockwise a quarter turn, and rested.